


the will of a dead girl

by onthelasttrain



Category: Heathers (1988), Heathers: The Musical - Murphy & O'Keefe
Genre: Complicated Relationships, F/M, Hate Sex, Mixed feelings, Porn with Feelings, Sex, Sort Of, Toxic Relationship, Vaginal Fingering, a little less dgw reprise and a little more dgw ;), ambigious ending, but not so much hate, canon compliant up until dgw reprise
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-04-01
Updated: 2020-04-01
Packaged: 2021-02-28 23:01:33
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Major Character Death
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,306
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23435098
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/onthelasttrain/pseuds/onthelasttrain
Summary: As Veronica Sawyer approaches her doomed school, hell bent on saving them, she realises that maybe she isn't as ready to let JD go as she thought. If they must fall, why shouldn't they fall together, one last time?
Relationships: Jason "J. D." Dean/Veronica Sawyer
Comments: 3
Kudos: 81





	the will of a dead girl

“I wish you’d come with me.”

“I wish I had more TNT!”

Veronica steps back a little, steadying herself as she swings the croquet mallet. She could hit him anywhere. The head might make it quick and painless if she uses enough strength. The chest, not enough to end it now, but enough to stall him, maybe try to make him see sense. She has seconds, actually less, to make a choice, and as it comes down on him, it finds its target.

She slams it into his hand, making the gun fly out of his grip, bounce off the wall and fall helplessly to the ground.

She throws down the mallet, to which he raises his eyebrows, the corner of his mouth turning upwards, his eyes bright. He’s amused by her. She’ll give him amusement all right. She takes a step towards him and he doesn’t back away, there’s barely a whisper between them, their breaths mingling. She looks up at him, trying to search past the insanity swirling in his dark eyes, to find any trace of the boy she woke up next to that morning. If he’s there at all, he’s lost now, buried underneath a fiery rage and a soul that’s been twisted and broken beyond salvation. Putting her hand on his cheek, she mourns for a moment. She mourns the man he could have been. The love he could have given her.

Then she grabs him by the collar of that stupid coat and kisses him.

He gets over his initial shock pretty quickly, one hand burying itself in her hair the other steady on her back. Her curled fingers turn to iron fists as she holds him ever tighter, their lips clashing over and over again. She moans against his lips, tasting the beginnings of the fire that only he can give her. Loving him is like loving a storm; his hands are the wind that tears at her body, his lips are the lightening.

“Take off the coat,” she commands.

“Why?” he pants.

“Because I can’t very well fuck you in that thing, can I?” She steps back and roughly tears it off his shoulders, smirking as he gets the message and obeys, pulling it off and tossing it to the corner. He looks smaller with it off, she thinks. More human. More real. “Good boy.”

In one motion, he grabs her waist and pulls her closer to him, taking a minute to slowly push her hair away from her face and caress her cheekbone with his fingertip, his touch so delicate it’s as though she’s made of china, like she’s rare and precious and he’s afraid of breaking her.

Doesn’t he know that he already has? What more can he do to her now?

His knees hit the floor with an immensely satisfying bang as she shoves him down onto his knees, his breath shaky and uneven against her bare legs as he gets his bearings.

“Don’t forget you’re dancing with,” she tells him, tugging on his hair. “I’m in charge.”

“And I wouldn’t have it any other way.” He opens her shirt and presses a kiss to her stomach and it sends a shiver through her body before she can stop herself. The asshole grins at that. “Darling.”

“Keep doing that,” she tells him.

“As the lady commands.” His lips touch her skin again, carefully, so, so careful. She wonders if he’s ever done this before, if there was anyone or anything he ever handled with the same caution and tenderness he does with her. As arrogant as it sounds, she doubts it. She’s watched him bring the world to its knees with reckless impulse and debris falling in his wake. He’ll move as fast as he can and burn as hot as he can in everything he does, the more pain he causes, the better. But not with her. with her. Never with her. She’s different for him. She’s special. His girl, his Veronica.

She sighs his he kisses just above her belly button, her hand digging into his shoulder in an effort to keep herself upright. Her knees are already shaking and threatening to bring her down, right into his hopeful arms.

“You drive me insane,” she whispers, stroking his hair. “You know that?”

She has to be insane to be in here, with him, doing this.

He doesn’t answer, instead kissing her hip, his nose gently tracing the bone. Oh damn, he’s good. He’s a devil, maybe the Devil, but he’s good. The skin buzzes where he touches her, almost enough to make her forget what he is. She doesn’t know how someone so wrong can make her feel like this, like she’s golden, but she doesn’t want to know. That would ruin it.

His hands pull on her skirt and he pulls away to look up at her, eyes wide, almost like an anxious child, silently pleading for a new toy or some candy, and she smiles at him, her sweet boy, her hand still caressing his hair.

“Yes,” she says, her voice barely a whisper. Her skirt falls around her ankles and she kicks it away, leaving her in her blazer and panties. He traces the lace with one finger, his intent clear as day. “Not fair,” she pouts, taking his hands and pulling him to his feet. “I took something off, now you.”

With a grin, he pulls his t-shirt off over his head and throws it God knows where. She holds him before he can kneel down again, leaning into him and running her hands over his chest and back. Her hand stops over his heart and she feels the frantic, irregular beating beneath his skin. As corny as it sounds, she’s half surprised that he has a heart. She reasons he has to to love her as much as he does, enough to drop to his knees at the sight of her hanging. Enough to blow up the world for school. What does his heart look like under there, she wonders?

She kisses his neck. She doesn’t bother with any of that tentative, gentle crap he pulls. He can be gentle all he wants, but she’s having him her way. She’s kissing him enough to make it hurt for both of them, sucking on his neck and leaving a mark there. She works her way down him, along his collarbone and chest and back up to his mouth, tasting the faintest hint of cherry on his lips.

Beneath her, her underwear slowly slide off her legs, guided by him, goosebumps trailing in his wake. She tries her best to control her breathing, but it’s hard when he’s looking so damn gorgeous down there and his fingers are creeping along her bare hips and stroking her thigh, his thumb pressing down on her just enough to elicit a gasp from her. Point, JD.

She throws him back on the ground, laughing a little at his little startled face.

“You were in the middle of something,” she tells him. “Don’t let me interrupt.” He lets out a low laugh and complies with her demand, kissing her now-bare thighs, his hand gripping her ass. Her hand strokes his hair, poised to pull him back should he do anything she doesn’t want, but so far he seems to be reading her mind.

“You are so beautiful,” he mumbles into her skin. “So damn beautiful. I mean it, darling. Did I ever tell you?”

“Once or t-twice,” she breathes. He’s further up her now and she moves her legs apart. Bliss follows his hands and his lips, silent ‘yes’s escaping her dry mouth.

“So damn gorgeous,” he repeats. “Are you real or did I dream you?”

“Shhh,” she tells him. “No questions. Just keep going.” His kisses are harder now, hot, desperate breathes on her skin as he mumbles incomprehensible praise to her. Her hand finds a pipe and she wraps around it, her own breathing coming faster and higher as he works, higher and higher until he’s inside her and oh god, she is in love with that feeling. The patience he has, slowly stoking her flame. He doesn’t have many virtues, but this has to be one of them. She’s trembling now despite her flushed cheeks and the sweat dripping down her back. She bites her lip so hard she can taste blood, all the while he gives her everything she wants, his fingers caressing and playing inside her while his lips continue kissing her legs and hips, keeping her on her toes. Making it exciting, a game where she has to guess what he’ll do next. And it sends sparks shooting through her, her blood crackling. But sparks can only go so far. She wants to be as patient as him, to see how far he’ll go, but the Lord doesn’t lead her away from temptation.

“Oh fuck it,” she sighs, pushing him back and throwing him across the floor. She tears her blazer off her body, letting her open shirt stick to her. He looks up at her, mouth open, ready to give an apology he probably doesn’t mean, until she drops to her knees and follows him, crawling over his flat body. She kisses along his torso before coming and claiming his lips, silencing any sound he can make. He pushes them up a little and she takes the chance to drag her nails down his back, grinning at how he gasps and winces at her touch, but it concerns her too. “Something wrong?”

“Not at all,” he replies breathlessly. She kisses him again, her tongue exploring all corners of his mouth as her hips begin rolling. She’ll miss this, she realises. There’s not a lot she’ll miss about him, but she’ll miss this. The feeling of floating on air at his touch. No, not floating. She knows better than that now. She’s going in the opposite direction and it’s far faster, far less safe, but it’s thrilling and terribly intoxicating. One of his hands holds her breast, stroking the tender skin, a perfect counterweight to the ferocity of their clashing lips. Their bodies move together as one, hips grinding and legs tangling together. His hand uncurls above his head and she grabs it and holds tight, a perfect fit.

Is she really going to let herself lose this?

Her other hand finds his belt buckle and she chuckles at the bulge she feels. She sneaks a sly glance at him and presses a kiss to his stomach. She won’t make it easy for him. She keeps kissing him, her finger running along his hipbone, poking underneath his jeans and slipping under his boxers.

“V-Veronica,” he says between breaths. “Take it off. Take them off.”

“Magic word?”

When he whispers ‘please’, it’s an unusual kind of magic. She also realises that it’s only the second time she’s ever heard him say please to her.

She unthreads the belt from the loops, manoeuvring the buckle out and slipping it off him. His hand moves to do it himself and she scolds him for it, running a finger down his arm. Still, she doesn’t stop, she wants those pants off him just as much as he does.

“Is that a gun in your pants, JD?” she teases, crawling up his near-bare body. She drops a kiss to his nose. “Or are you just glad to see me?” He smiles, even if it’s short lived, and kisses her again, her teeth tugging on his lips. There was a gun, in his pocket, now forgotten and sitting against a wall. A gun that he had pointed at her, no shame, no remorse.

 _‘You know exactly what he is,’_ Heather Chandler had said, a triumphant gleam in her dead eyes. _‘And you love it.’_

She wants to say that Heather is dead wrong and that she doesn’t love anything about him. But good girls don’t lie, do they?

She makes quick work of the boxers, her hands moving with a newfound desperation. She gasps and shouts at he enters her and it takes a second for her to realise it’s his name. JD. She says it over and over again as a new wave of pleasure rolls through her. Her chest gets tighter and tighter but she won’t stop. JD. Mr No Name Kid.

“Can I, can I make a request?” he asks. She pulls away and looks at him, her hand pressed against the floor to keep her steady. His mouth lays half-open, passion and giddiness lighting up his eyes.

“Yes.”

“Say my name,” he begs. “Call me by my name.”

She frowns for a second. She did. JD. And the separates the letters out. Like everything else, JD is false, a mask to hide behind.

“Jason,” she whispers, the word alien on her lips. She takes a deep breath and says it again. “Jason.” He smiles wider than she’s ever seen. As foreign as it feels, there’s something right about it. But the boy she’s looking at is JD, and Jason has been gone for a while. That doesn’t mean she can’t pretend. She cups his face, rubbing her thumb under his eye, and she smiles back at him. “Jason.”

Their lips come back together, moaning against one another, their bodies sticking together in the heat of the boiler room. Sweat beads on her forehead and drips off her back, so much so that she welcomes the cool of the floor when he lays her down, stroking her legs while whispering praises into her skin, punctuating them with kisses.

“You’re perfect.” _I’m not._

“You’re gorgeous.” _You said._

“I love you.” _Same here._

“I worship you.” _I know._

When she first heard those three words, she felt unsettled by them, suddenly worried she was running too quickly. And yet she pushed it away, choosing to indulge in her adolescent fantasy, to drink in his tale of their great love. The two of them dancing above the common folk, the only ones able to truly understand the world. She let herself believe it because she had liked how it made her feel. He had made her feel special. The first person who was able to make her feel like there was more to her than Ivy League colleges and movie nights. She felt extraordinary.

And then two people died.

It’s because of her. It’s all because of her, she won’t pretend otherwise. She saw the way he turned his head in disgust at Heather Chandler’s mocking her. Saw the calculated fury directed at Kurt and Ram. How his arms encircled her as he declared his worship of her, declared their love supreme and dominant over all. He brought her to her knees in different way that night. She’s kissed her chances of Heaven goodbye and when the pearly gates slam shut in her face, she’ll accept that with her head up.

Maybe down there, she’ll run into him, and they can do this all over again.

She buries her hand in his hair and pulls it hair enough to make him squeak. She’s close now but has so much left to do. She leaves a trail of open mouthed kisses on his torso and collar bone and finally up to his neck, where she bites down, revelling in the way he yelps. Taking pity, she massages the area where she bit, proud of the way the mark already stands out on his skin. All the while, pleasure builds deep inside her, mounting with each thrust of their hips. She gasps, once, twice, three times in quick succession, her heart beating so quickly it makes her dizzy. Her throat gets tight, her vision blurs.

She buries her face into his neck just in time to hide the tears.

She pushes him down on his back and throws her head back, gasping for air, her body buzzing with the thrill and the euphoria of it all. This has to be Hell, she knows it. Heaven couldn’t make something so sweet.

“JD… JD… Jason. Oh God, Jason!” 

It’s that name, his real name, that she cries out when she reaches her climax. She takes a second and lays back, relaxing into the bliss that rushes through her. She listens to the sound of her breathing in and out and rides this wave all the way to the end, when the boiler room comes back into focus and the ringing in her ears stops.

And he takes her hand.

When she turns to look at him, he’s staring up at the ceiling his hand on his stomach. Out of the corner of her eye, she sees the half-constructed bomb, the timer frozen at 5:00. Peering closer, she sees a screwdriver stuck into it, and it makes her laugh.

“Smart move,” she tells him, nodding towards it.

“Didn’t want a distraction,” he reasons. He turns on his side, and his pleading eyes entice her to follow him. He lifts her fingers to his lips and kisses them playfully. It’s a conscious effort for her not to enjoy it. “Why did you come here?”

“You know why.” He hums in acknowledgement. “I don’t have to. Not if you come with me.” He doesn’t answer, instead loosens his grip on her hand. She bites the inside of her cheek as the lump in her throat forms. Heather was right; she knows exactly what he is. Does she love it? Who cares, it doesn’t matter. He has to go.

Her brain is a constant stream of what-ifs. What if they had met before? What if his mom had stuck around? What if his dad hadn’t? And most of all, what if she hadn’t met him? What if she had ignored him in the hallway? What if she had just taken the corn nuts and left? What if she had just gone home that night?

Three people might still be alive.

“What are you going to do now?” he asks her. She flinches as he strokes her cheekbone.

“I don’t know,” she confesses. The room shakes as the pep rally carries on above them, oblivious to them. They thought themselves above them, he preached that. But look at them sweating and covered in dirt, while they celebrate, JD and Veronica not crossing their minds. “Maybe try to fix them. Make it better.”

“I was doing that-”

“Shut up, no you weren’t.” Now it’s his turn to flinch. Strangely, she feels bad. After everything they just did together, she’d wager that was out of the blue. But not unearned. She shifts back onto her back, keeping one eye on him. He’s so full of surprises that she can’t feel safe without him in her sight. Ironic, she knows. This all started because when she looked at him, she thought there was someone who could keep her safe. He stays on his side, his attention devoted to her, his hands itching with the temptation to touch her. She thinks for a second she might know what he’s thinking, but has she ever known? That mind of his, past the beautiful eyes, is a labyrinth. Even if she could find her way to the centre, she’d never ever find her way out. She’s too busy trying to find her way through her own mind, to pick apart the web he weaved in there. Like it or not, he’s never leaving her. He’s not the kind of person to leave her in peace. They’re irrevocably knotted together, him and her, so much so that even after he’s gone for everyone else, he won’t be for her. She’ll bet her life on that.

At last, he moves, his mouth opening, a simple “I love you” coming out, and despite the sadness, she can’t help but smile.

If those are his last words, at least they were nice.

**Author's Note:**

> This is the only productive thing I did today.  
> Remember kids, comments and kudos make a happy writer and a happy writer makes fics and fics make a happy fandom!
> 
> And if you can, please take a look at this page where you can find petitions, donation pages and educational resources linked to Black Lives Matter: https://blacklivesmatters.carrd.co/# Please consider making a donation, signing a petition or taking a look at other resources <3


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